Speed Dating
by Testorshia
Summary: Ororo hates Valentines Day. Or at least she did. OreO one shot for my readers to thank them for their patience with me :  Enjoy!


OreO one shot for Valentines Day. (insert legal mumbo jumbo about how I own nothing here).

To the readers of my story Theivery, I'm sorry it's taking so long. Writer's block is killing me, but I was watching a tv movie with a speed dating section in it and immediately thought "Hmm...?"

I hope you like it : )

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Speed Dating

A short story

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"Hi, my name's Ororo and I teach high school."

"That's really interesting. What subject? Anatomy or sex education?"

"How are you? My name's Ororo and I teach high school."

"Ororo? That's a ghetto name isn't it? But wow, it's so…unique."

"My name's Ororo and I teach high school."

"You wouldn't happen to have twenty dollars on you would you? I need to catch a cab out of here soon, but you're welcome to join me."

Charity or not, Ororo had had her fill of disrespectful, sleazy and down-right ignorant men. The date-a-thon had been Emma's idea, and far be it for Emma to ever not get her way around Xavier's Academy. Twenty dollars for the cover charge and five dollars per additional time spent with each woman, and a two dollar switching fee would mean major money for the Xavier's football team and cheerleading squad. The large cafeteria was decorated in pink, white and red streamers to commemorate St. Valentine complete with paper hearts and a Cupid ice sculpture peeing into the fruit punch.

A few of her students had bought a five minute date with her, which made her smile; they wanted her to be the most popular teacher. Sure, they called her a hard-ass Monday through Friday, but weekends when she offered yoga lessons and nature walks in addition to extra credit and tutoring they began to learn the method of her madness. And sure, a few of them had crushes on her, even going so far as to serenade her with songs to which she held her laughter and politely declined before directing them instead to the Secret Admirer booth at the other end of the cafeteria.

Jean and Betsey, her best friends, were down the aisle seemingly having great "random" dates with their respective boyfriends. It made her annoyed and slightly nauseous, or maybe that was the chocolate chunk surprise cookies from the bake sale a few days ago. In any case, she loathed the reason for the season as she always seemed to be that single but wise friend; if anything Valentine's was more of a single's awareness seminar. And if all the world had to offer her were disrespectful, ignorant and financially irresponsible men, she had to wonder if she was better off alone anyway.

She shifted in her seat as yet another bell rang to signal transition. Brushing cookie crumbs off her jeans, she didn't notice as yet another suitor sat across from her until she smelled his heavenly cologne of earth and paint. Her eyes roamed up to his and she smiled openly before introducing herself.

"Hi, how are you? My name's Ororo and I teach high school."

"Hi 'Roro. My name's Remy and I teach high school too."

She leaned closer, tossing her long, cinched ponytail over her shoulder. "Really, what subject?"

Her blue eyes met his red on black ones and she knew instantly who he was; the new art teacher all her female students were swooning over and it was clear why. His auburn hair was a little long, but well kept and in a short ponytail and his chiseled jaw had just a hint of five o'clock shadow. His arms weren't burly, but certainly not tiny and his chest was broad; he was muscular. And then he smiled and the heavens sang…okay, no not really, but she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they did.

For his part he'd noticed her the second he'd walked into the cafeteria; her sepia skin and white hair were truly hard to miss. Since his first day teaching at Xavier's Academy for the Gifted after watching her race her students to class, he'd wanted to bump into her casually, but the opportunity never presented itself with his assigned wing being so far from hers. As she sat looking uninterested at the festivities, he'd taken the time to admire her. Even while sitting, he could tell she had ample hips and thighs and a toned stomach. Her hair was tied a la Princess Jasmine and hung lightly over her shoulder; he decided it was right then or never, sucked up his nerve and sat across from her before another guy could intrude on her space.

"A little of this, a little of that, but mostly I teach art and French."

"I could see that," she replied, motioning at his paint spattered t-shirt.

He cursed himself for not remembering to change, but to his credit, he was sure she'd like what he'd painted if she ever got to see it or if he ever finished it. Whichever came first.

"Yeah, I didn't think t' change before I came down here. Not a good first impression, huh?"

"Well, you're doing a lot better than the guys before you," she smiled, resting her chin on her fist. "So, what brings you here? Do I detect a Southern accent? Might you be from Louisiana?"

"Aw, cher y' wound me. Y' don't say it Loo-easy-anna. Loose-e-anna."

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"So what is it I'm looking at here?"

" 's called impressionism. It's an impression of a chair."

"Doesn't look like anyone could, or would, want to sit on that Mr. LeBeau. What exactly are you teaching these kids?"

He grinned before unveiling another of his student's work. She sat on a small stool and tilted her head at it, "Another impressionism?"

"Right, but what is it?"

He warmed at the cute, perplexed look on her face. "Four legs…two legs? A person?"

"White tiger. So close though."

"Can I see something that I can easily identify Mr. Advanced-Impressionist-Art?" she teased, fixing the sleeves on her peasant top as he wandered around the small classroom.

"Well, I've been working on something for awhile now…It's not finished but…" he pulled her to her feet as he lead her towards the back of the colorful room to a covered canvas.

"It's not more impressionism is it?"

"Chut fille and just be patient," he smiled, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "Alrigh' so it's not done yet, so y' might not get the general idea of where I'm goin' with it. I still have to color most of it and the pencilin' is a little off in some places-"

She pulled back the tarp before he could say anymore and was astounded. Cobalt eyes stared intensely back at her set perfectly in deep sepia. He'd only managed to color her skin just passed her nose, but her lips were in a faultless, rosy pout. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, making her hair cascade over that one shoulder, a mass of wavy grey lines on white canvas. The start of an off-the-shoulder top was ruffled below the small peek of cleavage, and he'd started to color it light green. It was her, on canvas and in colored pencil, or at least his impression of her.

"I tol' y' I didn't have time to finish it; I was gonna do somethin' with your hair here and I was tryin' to show how y'-"

"How did you do this? I don't have any pictures like this."

He ran his hands over his face before answering. "My first day here, Charles had Hank show me around the grounds a bit and he pointed out a greenhouse not too far from that thatch of forest we got here and I saw y' in that shirt and some dark blue cut-offs planting flowers with some younger kids. I thought it was beautiful. I thought y' were beautiful. So I kept that image in my head and…y' don' like it?"

Is that what she looked like to people, so strong and steady? Beautiful? He said beautiful. She reached for his hand and gave it a soft squeeze before standing on slight tip-toe to kiss his cheek. "I adore it; thank you."

He beamed down at the weather goddess before pulling her back towards the student works, "Now y' won't believe this, but we have an impressionist camel."

"Oh I believe it," she groaned with a smile, following easily behind the rugged artist.

She smiled to herself as she decided then and there she wasn't going to loathe Valentines Days any more.

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*Chut fille – Hush girl.


End file.
